


Why Merlin Shouldn't Be Allowed Near A Campfire

by LivingInATimeOf_Myths



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Everyone Loves Merlin (Merlin), Fluff, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), M/M, My First AO3 Post, Short & Sweet, Sir Leon the Long Suffering, first post in six years, i really tried though, it has been a long long time, let alone in merlin, let's be honest this isn't a masterpiece, not my best not my worst, silly and sweet, social isolation means I need to do something besides talking to people, this tagging thing is kinda fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingInATimeOf_Myths/pseuds/LivingInATimeOf_Myths
Summary: A short and sweet little fluffball of a piece I wrote to get back into creative writing for the first time in six years. Wow, it has been that long. Read the tags. It's hot, Arthur's in love and won't admit it even to himself, Merlin's pretty much oblivious, and then he burns himself cooking sausages. I feel like Freud would probably have something to say about that, but whatever. Leon is sick of these two lovebirds, and just wants some supper. Gwaine sees all and is Gwaine. Percival and Elyan appear, plus...horses! Pretty, pretty horses. Come for the horses, stay for the awkward sexual tension. Plus, the mental image of Leon sunburned. It's funny, I think.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 354





	Why Merlin Shouldn't Be Allowed Near A Campfire

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this is the first time I've written anything creative for the public consumption in six years, so comments and critique are welcomed. Let's be honest-this isn't the most plot-driven piece, but it's sweet and its simple. I hope this isn't too messy, but I know I've got a few kinks to work out. Regardless, this is the fandom I've been chilling with for the past six months or so, and I'm in love with it enough to make it my starting point. Hope everyone is safe and healthy. Cheers my duckies! If you catch the reference, you'll know what a nerd I am and how I spend my time on YouTube.

“This heat is oppressive.” Gwaine grumbled, twitching as a bead of sweat dropped down to tickle his ear. “Arthur, remind me why we’re even out here?”

Arthur didn’t bother looking back, just sighed with irritation and called out, “Merlin, hand me my waterskin, would you?”

Walking in heavy chainmail and thick leather boots and a sweeping red cape may have looked majestic, but frankly he was too hot and tired to care about appearances, with his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

“Coming, sire!” Merlin responded cheerfully, and this time Arthur did look back. His manservant was behaving far too brightly in this weather. As they always did, the king’s eyes swept over the stumbling man, taking note.

Tall, skinnier than a rake, with flashing blue eyes and a goofy smile that nearly split his face in two. No, Arthur decided, Merlin was much too silly to be attractive, no matter how much the maids might gossip. Broken out of his train of thought by said servant finally making his way through the crowd of knights following the king, Arthur took the proffered waterskin and drank deeply from it, gulping down the warm water with a relieved sigh. Gwaine may act the fool, but it _was_ too hot to expect them to continue much further. Glancing back at the line of clumping knights behind him, Arthur noted even Leon looked exhausted. Noticing the king’s eyes on him, Leon straightened up to his full height and gave a weary smile to Arthur, though it was clear he was at his limits.

The sky was blue and fair, with no clouds or relief in sight, and Arthur could swear even the birds were too hot to be bothered with singing. Merlin sidled up to him and whispered, “Arthur...sire, there’s a stream up ahead. It’s getting hot, and the horses could use a drink. We could make camp, catch a few fish, wait out the heat?”

Arthur sighed.

Perhaps the man was right. The horses _were_ looking a bit worse for wear. Due to the scorching weather, the company had dismounted to allow the steeds some rest, but by looking at them, one wouldn’t know it. Hengroen, Arthur’s stallion, was sheening with sweat, his dappled sides heaving for breath, and it wasn’t fair to expect a horse to suffer for a human’s bad decision of going hunting during the worst heat stroke Camelot had seen in years. (Arthur ignored that last part, as it had a distinct Merlin-ish scolding tone to it, and that idiot did not belong in his thoughts, thank you very much).

With that, and a final glance towards the sky, as if begging for some rain, the king murmured

“Perhaps you’re right,” missing Merlin’s startled expression, and came to a sudden halt.

Next to him, Merlin struggled to stop his mare Llamrei from colliding into Arthur’s back due to the abrupt stop. Ignoring the man’s _look_ , Arthur announced, “There is a stream up ahead. We are going to stop there and make camp. It’s too hot to expect the horses to go on much further. With any luck, by the morning this sweltering heat will have broken and we can head back to Camelot.”

Gwaine muttered a little too loudly, “Yes, because gods-forbid the _horses_ get too hot.”

Percival, next to him and leading his own massive stallion, reached over and elbowed him in the side, perhaps a little too harshly, considering the wounded glare Gwaine shot at him, rubbing his side gingerly. Elyan, standing next to Leon, snorted as the taller ginger at his side shook his head.

“Why am I always the one getting slapped or punched or beaten up on?” Gwaine whined.

“Can’t imagine.” Leon quipped, his lips twitching up into a full smile when Gwaine pouted dramatically. As the nobleman-turned-commoner-turned-knight drew a breath to retaliate, Arthur’s voice rang through the clearing.

“Enough! We’re here. For the gods _sake_ , Merlin, will you please do something about the horses? They look exhausted!”

The man mentioned paused in his efforts to remove his mare’s tack, and gave Arthur a dirty look. When the king stopped to see what Merlin was doing, he felt a (small, very very small) pang of guilt.

  
The servant had already stripped Hengroen of his saddle and bridle without Arthur noticing, and had begun to do the same for his mare, all the while looking miserable in the heat, black hair spiked up and a flush to his cheeks.

“Really, Merlin, you look like you might melt! Here; Percival, hand me Valens while you put the tack away.”

Gwaine had appeared next to Merlin without Arthur noticing, and, with a look that promised pain if Arthur wasn't more careful with his servant’s wellbeing, the knight helped Merlin unload the horses and lead them to the water to drink.

Perhaps feeling guilty themselves, Leon and Elyan stopped stripping from their mail and instead turned to their own horses, Leon’s a tall black beauty named Gemmula (much to everyone’s endless amusement), and Elyan’s, a slender but spirited gelding he called Garrulus. Watching his knights take over Merlin’s responsibilities, Arthur huffed out a laughing breath. He would never admit it out loud, but the way Merlin managed to twist everyone around his little finger was one of the things that made the king so fond of his manservant. Still smiling to himself, Arthur led Hengroen to the stream, and then, looking at the deepening shadows, rubbed the horse down and covered his mount with a blanket.

A while later, after the horses had been looked after, wood gathered, a fire started, and Merlin stirring up dinner, Elyan glanced up to the sky and exclaimed, “Look at that!”  
Above them, a map of swirling stars lit up, each one a pinprick in the inky, velvety blackness. They held their breath as, wonder of wonders, a star seemed to loosen itself from its brethren and zipped through the sky, shooting towards the horizon.

Dozens followed its path, and even Merlin, crouching by the fire as he cooked, had to stop and gaze in awe. Arthur caught a glimpse of him, firelit and shimmering, and thought to himself, _The most beautiful of them all has landed among us._ Catching the thought, he shook his head irritably and looked back up at the sky, trying to clear the feelings that had suddenly appeared in his throat. They continued to watch in amazed silence as the meteor shower shot its way overhead.  
Several minutes later, the shower finally ended, and a deep, contemplative silence settled over the camp.

No one spoke, until Leon asked tentatively, “Merlin, is there supposed to be smoke?”

Merlin started, then whipped around so fast Arthur was half-surprised he didn’t sprain something, and started cursing up a streak.

“Shit, shit shit, ow!” Merlin rocked back on his heels, clutching his burned hand to his chest and staring at the frying pan as though it had bit him. Worried despite himself, Arthur crouched beside him and pried Merlin’s hand off his chest. Beside him, Percival deftly flipped the sausages that had so eluded Merlin’s grasp.

Merlin attempted to pull his hand back, but Arthur gripped the wrist tightly and refused to let go.  
Standing up, he led Merlin to a log a bit away from the fire, where he could take a proper look without worrying his idiot of a manservant would manage to trip into the fire and finish the job. When he looked at the injured appendage, Arthur was relieved to see no permanent damage had been done, but the flesh of Merlin’s palm was bright pink and heat radiated from it. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding on for too long until Merlin coughed and mumbled,

“My bag.”  
Startled, Arthur let go and looked up at Merlin. For some unfathomable reason, Merlin’s cheeks were nearly as pink as his hand was.

He coughed again, and Arthur asked, “Merlin, are you ill?”

From the other side of the fire, Gwaine chortled merrily, and Elyan threw a stick at his head. Merlin shook his head rapidly, and said again, more clearly,

“My bag. It’ll have a balm for burns, as well as bandages. I should fetch it.”

But he didn’t make a move, and Arthur didn’t let go of his hand. They sat, staring at each other in silence, until finally Leon, of all people, broke and fetched the saddlebag from where it sat only a foot or two from Arthur’s grasp. He sighed, exasperated, and gently nudged Arthur out of the way, taking Merlin’s hand in his own.

  
Leon hissed in sympathy when he saw how pink and irritated the skin was, and pulled out a glass bottle containing the cream, which he’d had unfortunate use of only a week prior when he’d fallen asleep in broad daylight. He shuddered as he remembered how red his pale skin got, and just how much teasing he’d received. _Turns out gingers can turn redder, eh Leon?_ Shaking off horrifying memories, the man dipped two fingers in the pot and gingerly spread the cream across Merlin’s palm. There seemed to be instant relief as Merlin sighed and his shoulders became less tense, but he refused to meet Leon or Arthur’s eyes.

Leon couldn’t help but roll his eyes at these two-he had had _more_ than enough of their longing looks and snide comments that masked a bone-deep affection the two had for each other. Deciding he wasn’t paid enough to deal with the inevitable headache Arthur and Merlin always caused when they got all lovesick and gooey on each other, the knight reached for a roll of bandages and carefully wrapped Merlin’s hand up.

Releasing the wrist, Leon stood up, stretched, and said somewhat pointedly to Arthur, who had watched the entire process like a hawk, “Milord, perhaps we should eat? I believe Percy and Elyan managed to salvage our supper, and I don’t think they can fend Gwaine off for much longer.”  
Merlin gasped, shot out of his seat so fast Leon’s head spun, and made a break for the fire.

“The bread!” Gwaine caught him, laughing, and said, “Merls, the bread is fine,” gesturing to the meal neatly set out on several blankets. Merlin came to a halt and blinked.

“When did that happen?”

“When you were being coddled by Queenie and our good old _Leon_ the _lion_.” Gwaine said, waggling his eyebrows. Leon glared at Gwaine, murder made a promise on his face. Merlin pushed Gwaine aside as the knight chuckled and looked up at Percival and Elyan with gratitude in his eyes. Percival ruffled his hair and Elyan nudged him in the side and said,

“Well, someone had to do it, and we’re hardly strangers to making our own meals, Merlin.”

Arthur trotted up, taking a plate and shot at Merlin,

“They managed to do it without burning themselves. Isn’t that a _wonder_ , _M_ _er_ lin?”

Merlin retorted quickly, “I’m hurt, you prat. Don’t you have any sympathy?” he asked as he waved his wounded arm in front of Arthur’s face.

Arthur commented, “Truly, it’s amazing you’ve managed to survive all these years without dismembering yourself.”

Gwaine mumbled something along the lines of, _They’re flirting, your honour,_ causing Percival and Elyan to dissolve into matching coughing fits. Arthur flushed a deep red, looked at his useless, irritating, absolutely _daft_ knights who were absolutely going to _suffer_ in training the next week, and chomped down on his fish viciously. Leon only sighed and reached for the bread, handing a piece to an oblivious Merlin, who practically inhaled it.

After supper was done, and the dishes were done by a one-handed Merlin, they set up their bedrolls and went about getting some sleep. It escaped no one’s notice that Merlin, as always, set his up far away from the fire and from the safety of the knights. Arthur wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether Merlin realized he was welcome within the group, and whether he knew of their fondness for him. Their collective fondness, of course.

With a long day looming before him, Arthur dismissed the thought for another day, ignoring how Merlin curled up tightly to remain warm (thankfully, with the sun going down came a relief of coolness, enough so that the fire’s warmth was welcome). He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

“So….if I burn my hand, does that mean no training tomorrow?” came Gwaine’s voice out of the darkness. They all groaned, and _thump_.

_“Ow!”_


End file.
